Beginnings

A new school year starts this week; full of promise and possibility.  I am as ready as I can possibly be -- and, as usual, I am a nervous mess.  There will be new kids to meet, and new classes to tackle, and I am awash in anxious feelings.  What if they don't like me, what if I can't engage them in this new material, what if I'm just no good at any of it...?

My dreams are chaotic and full of disturbing imagery.  I wander lost and helpless through a landscape that I don't recognize, but which still seems vaguely familiar.

Not to worry, however.  It is fine, really.  This mental fussing is just part of getting into the pattern and rhythm of the school room.  I am, actually, entirely ready and relatively certain that my preparations throughout this summer will set the stage for success for me and for my students.  I am physically healthier than I have been for a couple of years -- no major aches and pains, and feeling hopeful that I may even have found a set of things that can help to minimize my migraine issues, too.  I look at my face in the mirror, and I can see my eyes sparkle back at me.  It has been a long while since the last time that sparkle was part of my daily look.  It has been a good summer, interestingly.  Even as we've worked hard to come through His knee surgery and the requisite rehabilitation, we've enjoyed the long, slow, lazy days and nights.  We've reveled in hours to spend together.  We've laughed and loved and learned, once again, how to be gentle with each other.  It has been a summer full of small things, and that seems like a very big thing.

I remember trudging back to school last August, uncertain that I had the personal resources or reserves to make it through the year.  I was, then, exhausted, beaten, and sad.  This beginning feels completely different -- vibrant with power and hopefulness.  I have been conscious about not looking backward; deliberate about focusing on what is.  Still, the contrast between now and then is amazing.  All the various, small steps toward health and healing have paid off.  There are now so many moments of joy and love and simple happy sweetness and peace.  I cannot point to a specific moment when life changed and showed up feeling good again.  I only know it has, and I am glad and grateful.

So, I am headed off into a brand new year, and I am nervous but also excited.  Nervousness will evaporate, I am sure, in the rush and spill of happy greetings and new adventures that lie ahead.

swan

The Myth of The Quick Fix

I've just finished reading Unlearn Vanilla Marriage, by Richard Woods.  It is, mostly, a treatise on the various reasons for conflict and trouble inside of the institution of marriage.  Woods has some rough edges, and he also has a real "thing" for the self-help industry, and Dr. Phil McGraw in particular.  He doesn't mince words.  Most of the book is an anti-traditional marriage diatribe, and there is very little actual discussion of the "negotiated non-monogamy" that he seems to be in favor of.  Still it is clear, as I read it, that although he talks about a variety of "alternative" lifestyles, his experience is with the practice of swinging.

Frankly, it was a slog, and I skipped a lot of it.  Toward the end, though, I was struck by one statement that I think we don't make often enough:

"I don't want to paint too rosy of a picture...In order to be in a successful marriage (relationship) that incorporates negotiated non-monogamy, the relationship would have to be strong to begin with...Swinging, or any variant lifestyle..., is not a solution to a failing relationship..."

It made me think of all the times I've read someone, new to the lifestyle, who has just discovered spanking (or some other exotic and / or exciting alternative sexual/erotic orientation).  On a regular basis, those new to the lifestyle revel in the excitement and energy that is engendered by "this thing we do," and often those caught in a dull, dysfunctional, dying relationship get convinced that they have found some new kind of magic that can fix everything.

I fell into that exact fallacy a very, very long time ago.  I'd lived over two decades in a marriage that was broken.  I stayed for all kinds of reasons ... I'd made "sacred" vows; I had young/adolescent children; he was "good" to me -- not abusive; I wasn't sure he was competent to make it on his own; and even though things were sometimes hard (even miserable) I figured I was learning life lessons.  I didn't trust him; never counted on him; didn't believe in him; felt sexually frustrated and personally stuck.  Ours was not a failing relationship. It was failed, and he and I stayed mostly because we did not know how to do anything else.

In the last couple of years, I did what so many did in those days -- typed "spanking" into an Internet search, and found a whole new, bright, shiny world of kinky people and ideas.  I managed to talk him into going along with it all for a bit, and we experienced that newbie flush of excitement that feels like it really might make everything better and good.  It buoyed us for awhile; a year or maybe a bit more, but it didn't last -- couldn't last.

Swinging, BDSM, Polyamory, Open Marriage...  These and other alternatives are ways to structure a healthy, vibrant relationship.  They are not substitutes for the hard and necessary work of learning to communicate clearly, be emotionally available and vulnerable, speak and act with truth, listen with compassion and openness, and build trust.

Sometimes I think we turn away from the comings and goings in our community.  People who we once knew; maybe people who once blogged; maybe people we've met in person -- many of them stay around for a year or two or maybe three and then vanish.  There have been so many of those over the years, I doubt I could name even a fraction of them, but I feel their absence still.  I wonder how many of them came into the life with big dreams and starry eyes, only to smash into the hard realities of living in intimate relationship?  I wonder if there might have been anything we, collectively, could have said about the foundations of relationships that might have helped at least a few of them to sustain their relationships through whatever bumps?

This isn't magic.  There can be magic, but this is work.  It requires attention and effort and energy and devotion and perseverance and tenacity and awareness and intent.  No matter how exciting that first spanking might turn out to be, our lifestyle choices do not fix what might be broken.  Only we can do that.

Sue (swan)

How to Begin

We keep track of the statistics for this little bit of cyberspace using StatCounter. We do watch our stats go up and down, and we sometimes scratch our heads in utter amazement at what it is that brings people here. It isn't always, or even often, clear at all.



Overnight, we had someone find their way to The Heron Clan by typing in a Google search looking for "what should I ask my Master before I give my submission." We came up, among the other hits for that query, because of what I wrote here about the differences between BDSM and Domestic Discipline. I can't imagine that, if the seeker was looking for advice about how to negotiate ahead of entering into a D/s or M/s dynamic, that they found what they were looking for. I don't believe I've ever even come close to discussing or addressing that topic area.



I am not clear that I am the person who ought to talk about this, given my experience. All I can do is reconstruct the path that brought me to this life. Perhaps there is something in the story that others might find instructive.



It was the month of March; exactly this time of the year, six years ago. We'd known each other, at that point for a little over two years. Mostly, our contact was by IM, email, and long-distance phone calls -- because I was living in Denver, Colorado, and He and T were here in Ohio. We would travel, one way or the other, to visit and play, usually several times a year, but ours was a long-distance relationship.



We'd already declared our love for one another, and weathered the storms that were the result of that revelation. We'd come together, as a "quad" at the new year to make the final decision that would bring us together as a "family." We understood that we were moving to make that a reality.



We hadn't set a date. We hadn't discussed timing.



That day, in March, He and I were IM'ing, and I was running down a litany of perfectly sensible and rational reasons why it would be "at least" two years before we could reasonably make the move. After all, I told Him, there was a lot to do...



I will always remember the words as they blinked across my screen: "Do you think that we will live forever? Get here to me this summer!"



And, I did exactly that. I sold my home; quit my teaching job; said goodbyes to the grown children and my mother; packed all the household goods that I didn't sell; and separated from the few friends that had shared my path to that point. Just a bit more than 24 hours after the last children walked out of my classroom in Colorado that first week in June, we pulled up out in front of the apartment complex where He and T were living, and where we had rented the apartment next door to theirs.



I don't recall that there was any negotiation to that process. He said, "come," and I obeyed. There was huge eagerness between us, but very little in the way of conversation about our respective expectations for the relationship that we were creating. I remember asking, once, about what "sex" would be like between He and I -- a question which He answered with absolute candor and honesty.



We thought we knew what we were doing. Neither of us were "children." We were of a certain age. We'd played together a few times by then, and we'd talked and talked and talked. We were dreadfully, irretrievably, ridiculously in love.



So, clearly, I am no expert at the business of submissives negotiating with Dominants in the beginning stages of a power exchange dynamic. I've seen negotiations carried out to a rather remarkable degree of precision before people entered into short-term scenes in my local public dungeon. I've surely read a whole lot of advice on the subject. In practice, it wasn't like that for me with Him. I'm not clear, that if I had it to do over again, I'd do it a whole lot differently. There is all that "theory," and then there is the reality of what is at stake when you make this kind of move. I'm not convinced that you can really "negotiate" the entry into this kind of dynamic -- anymore than you can negotiate the final step over the edge of a cliff.



If I'd asked questions then; if I'd tried to come up with some list of "limits" or "requirements," I think I would have been entirely caught up in the "physical" implications of our pending arrangement. It would have been the kind of thing that comes up on "check lists" like one finds on sites that try to provide BDSM information for beginners: what and how much and how often and how hard and on and on. I would have seen, and possibly tried to address, what was within the scope of my vision. It would have been grotesquely inadequate in terms of trying to define the life that I was about to step into.



I can't imagine. I can't imagine Him being anything but amused (or perhaps mildly annoyed) by me attempting to define the life that He was calling me into with Him. He was utterly sure and completely in control at that point. My submission was not something that He needed me to "give" to Him. He had the vision for us together, and He would have it in exactly the form that He could see in His mind's eye. So, part of me believes that if the question is "what has to be in place between us before I agree to give my submission?" there is already an issue of whether the Dominant partner is ready to assume that control.



I suppose that, if I had the gift of prescience that would have allowed me to see into the future, I'd have asked:

• What will we do to mitigate the unavoidable impacts of aging and health changes on our life together?




• How will You help me and guide me through the emotions that I'll encounter when/as You become "bored" with me (as You surely will) and seek to create relationships beyond just "us?"




• How will we find the strength together to withstand all the unexpected and uncontrollable vagaries of living our lives day to day?




• How will you shelter me and us from the impacts of social sanction and isolation related to our lifestyle?

Those are the far more piercing questions that might have been asked. I doubt very much that He'd have been able to answer those "look into the future and tell me it will always be OK" questions with any kind of specificity or accuracy. The only truthful answers to those kinds of quetions have to fall into the "I don't know" realm.



So. No answer to what questions one ought to ask a Dominant or a Master ahead of deciding to enter a power-based relationship dynamic. The only advice that I can come up with, six years later, is to reach for a level of self-awareness that makes it seem "right" for you personally to follow the path that lies at your feet, aware that there are hurdles and chasms ahead that you cannot see or predict. There is no way to eliminate the risks; no way to prevent the disasters and challenges that will come up along the way; no way to measure the ratio of joy to sorrow that might be your portion. In the end, it is His tag line that seems to offer the best advice: "Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined."



swan

Coming up on Five

It seemed entirely sensible.

The logistics were formidable.

When, in March, the possibility of making the move to Cincinnati from Denver was something we were only just discussing five years ago, there was SO MUCH TO DO, that it seemed entirely reasonable that the move would take at least a full year to complete -- that there was no possible way that it would happen any sooner than the summer a year out from that spring (a minimum of 15 or 16 months, maybe longer). After all, there was a house to sell, and jobs to quit and new employment to be found, and family matters to be settled, and all the minor and not so minor details of packing and moving a whole house full of belongings.

I just never contemplated that that time window would seem inappropriate to Himself. After all, surely He understood the ENORMITY of the undertaking...

That was the way my mind was working five years ago, as I whirled around, still embedded in my old life, in my own ways, in a thinking pattern that was just about to change forever.

He and I had come to understand that we loved one another. He and I and T (and "He who Shall Remain Nameless") had negotiated the turbulent waters of our nascent polyamorous relating and made the decision to make our relationship permanent.

He and I had played together, and spent time together, and talked endlessly on the phone and online, and dreamed and longed for the day when we would be together full time. What we hadn't done yet, was contemplate the depth of our power exchange or where that would take us ultimately. At least, I hadn't really contemplated that part of it all yet. We just hadn't talked about it specifically.

So...

As we chatted that March evening and the conversation came around to WHEN the move was actually going to be accomplished, it seemed to me completely within the realm of sensible to suggest that I teach one more year there in Denver while we work out all the details and make preparations to move a year and some months later in the summer following. There was hardly an eyeblink before the words came back across my computer screen with a definitiveness that I had never "heard" before, but that I would come to recognize:

"Do you think we are going to live forever? Get here this summer!"

That was it. That simple command changed my life and my world forever. I never questioned, never expressed to Him how simply impossible that would be, never waivered. I just went to work, and got it done.

That's how, on a June 6th afternoon five years ago, I arrived in my new life here. It was the end of a marathon of preparations, and months of waiting and longing, and a the culmination of an awfully long drive and the feeling was giddy and breathless -- and then, there He was, coming up the sidewalk with a bouquet of roses in each arm -- one for T and one for me.

It amazes me and delights me and fills me with wonder that the years have flown by so quickly. So much has happened, and yet there is a part of me that feels as if I only just got here. I find it hard to imagine it has been so many years. I wouldn't take anything for a single day of it.

swan

Caning

A very long time ago, when He and I were only just beginning this journey together, there was an intricate game we played for a very long time around the whole idea of caning... When I was newer to this, the thought of being caned scared me half to death. It was, of all the SM forms of play that I'd experienced at that point, one of the most evocative.

I've come, in the years since to embrace the cane -- when I'm in a headspace to embrace anything at all along the masochistic curve that I follow. Here lately I seem to be back there again.

It might be that partly I'm stuck hunting for a way to replace the really nice cane that we broke a few months back. The replacements that we've found have just not been IT, to tell the truth. Serviceable, I suppose, but disappointing in terms of quality. So last night, as we sat watching another miserable outing by our happless Cincinnati Reds, I was cruising the Internet for ratan canes. Not an altogether unsuccessful effort either, although the question arises as to how much we are willing to invest in the beastie...

And then there was a difficult night. Long story. Nightmares and broken sleep and uncertainties.

This morning I came up into a fragile and tender place, facing the mostly inevitable Sunday morning session. Willing, of course, but unsure of my sturdiness.

He read the signs and was casting around for what would be "good." He asked, laughing, if I was in the mood for a "little light spanking," and we shared a laugh. I grinned at Him and allowed that I was uncertain that our spanking scale extended that far, that I was of the belief that the "light" end of the spanking scale was somehow missing. And the conversation hummed on for a bit... Turning after a bit to that time, almost six years ago, when He caned me for the very first time...

Which led to this morning's caning. Which was not at all like the first time. I wasn't actually sure that I was "into" caning as He began, but very quickly, as He tap, tap, tapped away -- with rapid fire strokes, I could feel a fire building in my butt surely, but a heat elsewhere too. By the time He had started to up the ante with some really sharp strokes that were raising welts, I was riding the wave and feeling the power that comes from a good session that brings its own sexual tension.

By the time He'd finished building the fire, I was more than ready to go. We galloped off into a joyous bit of lovemaking that left us both gasping.

I do like canes. I do like canes. I do, I do, I do like canes.

swan

Understanding Some Things

Both mel and morningstar offered me interpretations of the destruction of the paddle that have helped me think a bit more clearly about the whole event. Their thinking about it has been helpful, partly because I have had trouble getting a clear sense of it for myself -- the actual incident happened so quickly (and I was in such a blind panic and rage) that I really do not have any mental pictures to look back at as I consider it all.

They focus on the destructive moment as an ending of a long period of resentment and frustration that has had me "stuck" for the last two years. That feels true and wise and useful in terms of interpreting this. It doesn't excuse my actions, of course, but it helps me think about where I've been and what I've been doing.

I believe that this falls into the realm of what I understand to be a spiritual "epiphany;" that flash of understanding or realization that sometimes occurs out of swirling chaos or confusion (for me at least). Here are definitions of the term that I was able to find (exclusive of the Christian scriptural "date" meaning):

Epiphany --
a. A sudden manifestation of the essence or meaning of
something.
b. A comprehension or perception of reality by means of a sudden
intuitive realization

I've spent almost two years slowly losing everything that I once identified as essential to my identity, and surely as integral to my slave-self. One by one, I've let go of, or pushed away the bits and pieces of my life that were once proud and cherished attributes of who I was when I came to Him five years ago...ability to submit, my power to manage and embrace pain, my femininity, my sexual responsiveness, my joyful heart, my generous spirit, my sense of peace and tranquility, my trust, my faith... I've grown angry, bitter, fearful, timid, resentful, guarded, cold, distant, suspicious, mean, sad, and depressed... Through it all, I've wondered what happened, wondered how to reverse it all, railed at the unfairness of everything. AND, in my heart of hearts, I've blamed a good bit of it on Him; wanted Him to come and find me where I was sitting there, lost and afraid by the side of the road, hoping someone would find me and hold me and tell me that I was still OK and still worthwhile and still "theirs."

Of course, as I sank into the darkness, I could never actually say any of that. And the further I got from the woman He came to love, the harder it was for Him to stay connected -- a viscious circle... He kept prescribing spankings, but without the information He needed about what was really going on in my head, and without me having the information to share... we never got off dead center with that notion. To be fair, the picture has been pretty cloudy along the way. There have been real health issues, and real work issues, and real life stressors. Not all of this has been me just being randomly nuts... Still, I can get fairly sincerely crazy all by myself without a whole lot of extra input if you don't watch me carefully, and for awhile there, He got out of the habit of watching me... Put it all together, and we were off to the races.

The broken paddle stopped us both. Cold. It was such a stark moment. It was visceral on so many sensory levels -- sound, texture, visual... In that instant, all the air left the room, and our world stopped and stood absolutely still. What has been termed "reset" is literally that for the two of us.

This last week DOES feel like a re-birth to me. I feel newly formed. Newly sure and newly strong; newly soft and newly safe. To be sure, I am still intensely and deeply imbedded in a regimen that He is directing and guiding, and it is not at all light or "easy." However, I am not finding it onerous or anxiety producing. Instead it is building a sense of comfort, place and certainty within me that has been missing for many, many months. Whatever He asks for or presents me with, feels good and affirming and real and positive. I can't tell you when that was really true in the last year or so. And, I am feeling sexy again. It is as if that part of me had been locked away and is now released to play again. I want Him and want to be with Him and want to be touched by Him. My responses are awakening, and I am in awe -- and there are NO chemicals creating that effect!

If this continues, it may be that this old bird will become not a swan but a phoenix...

swan

Happy Nanaversary Babe

A little more than 7 years ago today a good friend contacted me and told me there was a man moving to Cincy. He was broken. His marriage was dissolving and his job had moved. He was relocating to an unknown community. He was a good guy with a great heart and never stopped talking. And she said he needed a friend. She told me to contact him. "Sure, I will when I get a chance." Was my response.... And a few days later she asked me if I had contacted him, and I hadn't, "Too busy" was my reply. She said I really needed to get in touch with this man and I said I would. And a week later she tracked me down and asked me again...and again....well, you get the drift, right? Well, she, being the Dominant that she is, said "Stop talking to me and write the damned email RIGHT NOW!!!"......so I did. And got a response from Tom. He was relocating to Cincy that week and starting his new job the following Monday and maybe we could meet that Sunday for dinner.

I had given up the search for the "ring and the white picket fence". I was destine to share a home with my best friend/mom and our cat. And I had figured that was ok. I had worked a difficult career and gave it up to come home. I was tired. I was not looking for anything more than a potential play-partner and friend. Someone for an occasional dinner and movie.... BOY! Was I wrong!!

We met the Sunday after he returned from a depressing trip back to visit his family for Thanksgiving. Half way between our two homes at an Olive Garden. We met at 6pm and left the restaurant at 10:30pm, after many glances from servers trying to go home, since they closed at 10. We talked about anything and everything. We had our entire lives in common. We found that my career followed him around as I traveled. I worked 9mos. about 1hr away from where he was born. He lived about 15mins. away from me when he was in high school and I was in grade school. His Dad and my Mom worked in the same building for several years. I lived in the same town with his parents for over a year during my travels. And finally, during my last stint as a restaurant manager, I probably assisted with their family for several meals, as I was managing a restaurant in the town where he and his family lived for many years and the restaurant was one of their favorites. Yet we had never met until that evening...but it seemed we had been together forever.

We spent weekends together. I lived in a town about an hour away and would work Monday thru' Friday and leave from work on Friday with the car packed with treats for Tom. And on Sunday evening, after dinner, I would drive back home to start it all over again.... and cry all the way home. He kept asking me to move in. And I kept saying "No." You see, he was not very comfortable alone. I didn't want to be a rebound. I wanted him to see that it was ok to be alone. That it wasn't so bad to have private time. And to know that I would always come back. Then, when he finally got comfy, I was offered a transfer to his town.....and I moved. We have been together ever since.

I am not lying when I say that Tom saved my life. We have discussed that before, but I owe my "Everything" to him. He give me strength when I just want to lay down. He has the most infectious laugh, it lights up the room. The best place in the entire world is snuggled in his arms, resting against his chest. My hand on his heart.

I am home. I am loved.

One of my favorite songs is "Sleep" by Melissa Etheridge

After your laughter like thunder
After your skin like coffee and cream
After it takes our bodies into the night
After we've come to the extreme

I want to lay down on your shoulder
Just inside your arm
I want to listen to your heart beat
And your breathing on and on
I want to lay down on your shoulder
Surrender to your peace
And go to sleep

And when we've gone a million miles
Made true our dreams with sweat and bone
After we've built it up with our bare hands
Made strong a place we can call home

I want to lay down on your shoulder
Just inside your arm
I want to listen to your heartbeat
And your breathing on and on
I want to lay down on your shoulder
Surrender to the peace
And go to sleep

And when the light in my eye is fading
When running water becomes too deep
Finally angels turn my fire to dust
And when my soul's no longer mine to keep

I want to lay down on your shoulder
Just inside your arm
I want to listen to your heartbeat
And your breathing on and on
I want to lay down on your shoulder
Surrender to the peace
And just go to sleep

Mores & Mores,
T

Beginnings -- For Us

In another spot in the commenting on "Ownership" magdala expresses some uncertainty about how our particular M/s and poly dynamic came to be the way it is today. She asks:

" I am not entirely sure, and may be mistaken, but I am thinking that you evolved from poly to M/s poly? I'd have to go back and re-read to make sure."

I recognize that we, and I, get so busy doing what it is that we do, assuming the present mode, that I seldom go back and reconstruct the beginnings. I did that a lot in the early days, but the "history" has gotten long enough that I have let much of it fade into the mists. I tend to forget that there may be some for whom it might be interesting, instructive, or simply, informative. If you already know most of this, think you know it, or just don't care, skip the rest of this...

I was, like many I suspect, a closeted BDSM wannabe for most of my life. I simply assumed that I was "bad" for having those urges and desires. I married young, already pregnant, to escape a home life that was (I thought) worse than the marriage I was jumping off into. The man I married seemed steady, safe, and utterly unchallenging. It seemed like a good bargain to the 19 year old I was then. It didn't take me long to realize that I'd made a dreadful mistake, but by then I had a baby son and a second child on the way... He couldn't keep a job, couldn't satisfy me sexually, found my "urges" disgusting, and kept our family continually on the edge of financial and legal disaster. I stayed because I'd been raised to keep commitments, because he convinced me that many of the "issues" were because of how I was -- that I was the crazy one, because, with two small children, I simply didn't know what else to do. I worked my ass off, put my needs in a deep dark corner somewhere, and raised my kids.

One day, I typed "spanking" into my computer's search engine and found "Domestic Discipline." It is the vanilla-cized, sanitized, guilt-free version of BDSM, and I managed to sort of sell it to the husband. I was, for the first time in my life, getting something that I'd only ever dreamed of, fantasized about... I thought I'd died and gone to heaven! He played along, although not very enthusiastically. It was a beginning, however, and a beginning was, for me, enough.

I "met" the people who would eventually become my "family" on a DD listserve. I was so NEW. I didn't know anything about anything, and I was so hungry for connection, for knowledge, for friends... They were there, with support, affirmation, guidance. Eventually, when the husband and I felt like we needed some sort of "real time" input to expand our knowledge, we contacted the two of them to ask them for advice. We expected some sort of generic help -- perhaps a list of books to read, conferences to attend, etc. It was early days then. There wasn't the wealth of information available online that there is now. They invited us to attend Ohio Leather Fest with them. We were stunned. I was stunned!

I was also very clear about who I was, and who I was not. I understood my boundaries. I was married. I intended to stay married. I wasn't happy in my marriage, understood the shortcomings of my situation, but I was clear about the commitments I'd made. I believed that DD and perhaps BDSM might give us a way to bridge the gaps that had always existed between us. I wasn't looking for a new partner. I was looking for some teaching, some mentoring (in a strictly clinical/technical sense). I made all of that very clear from the outset, and everyone understood, and respected, those limits. We would play, but we would play within those constraints. Period.

I'd never heard the word "poly" before that trip. We discussed it then, in very limited terms, as playing (in a BDSM sense) with multiple partners. None of us, at that point, ever contemplated the much broader context of poly relating as we now practice it.
We came, we learned and taught, we played, and then we all returned to our separate lives. Except that we continued to talk and write and IM at significantly more intense levels.

Soon we were back for another visit. And then another. Then Tom and T visited us. Back and forth and back and forth...

Still, I maintained the absolute boundary -- I was married and intended to stay that way. He honored that.

He played D/s games with others in our circle and I watched from the sidelines.

Ultimately, the day came when He broke the "agreement." He took an enormous risk. He told me that He loved me. He believed that, in telling me of His feelings, He would end our friendship because He was violating the limits I'd so staunchly maintained for so long. It was the night that I melted entirely and admitted the lie that I'd been holding close to my heart -- that we were "just friends" and that I didn't have deep loving feeling for Him as well... So... Our journey into poly began in earnest.

We then began to explore the boundaries of our D/s relationship within that context. I knew, by then, that my husband was interested in BDSM on a very limited basis. He seemed quite willing for Tom and I to explore freely, and we did -- with wild and joyful abandon.

The M/s did not evolve until after we actually moved together full time. It was a designation we resisted at first. The language is so fraught with drama. We don't seem, on the face of it, to fit the mold. Our relating can seem somewhat casual to an outside observer. Ultimately, though, we came to understand that the reality between us was simply this: I belonged to Him utterly. If He asked it, I would do it, give it, become it, if I possibly could. It wasn't about the SM, or fancy labels, or titles, or any of the rest of it. It was simply who and what we were.

That's a lot of ground covered. There are plenty of details that don't show up there...

Oh well...

There are the bones...

swan